Under the bridge
by Hell789abdv
Summary: AU. One shot. Brendan finds him beaten under a bridge on his way from work one night and can't leave him there. Hard M. Brendan POV.


AU with a bit of canon.

Hard M.

One shot.

Warnings: mentions of child abuse, graphic M/M sex, strong language.

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* * *

"Spare a couple of quid?"

He ignores him and keeps walking. Like he ignores them all. They all asked the same question and as always he ignored them. He wasn't giving money to them, not when it would likely be used for drugs or alcohol or any other number of things. It's his cold hard cash and he worked for it. He's not giving it away. And he knows about charity and giving to those less fortunate, he donates a monthly sum to cancer charities in honour of his mother and to an animal charity which Deccy had set up after nicking his card. When he threatened to end the direct debit his son had pulled out the big guns, this would be after the argument that had ensued about firstly Deccy taking his card without asking, secondly donating fifty quid monthly which lead to a lively discussion about where money actually came for and ended with "well it's not like you can't afford it is it", and thirdly on to the main thread which was his sons disapproval of his eating meat, then it had been the weapon brought out, "please Dad" combined with a look which he was sure was meant that if he dared end the flow of money he would never let him forget it and it would be used at all future arguments to illiterate his sons thoughts on him being a disappointment not only as a father but as a human being so of course he had given in.

"Big issue?"

He walks straight past them too.

It's not that he can't appreciate the kind of circumstances that lead to ending up on the streets, it's not that he doesn't care that there are people without a roof over their heads, it's more that it doesn't affect him or his family directly and he has a hard enough time keeping up with everything in his life to think about anything else.

"Thanks." The kid says as he wraps his dirty bloodied fingers around his pristine white mug and sips cautiously at the weak tea. There's a smell on him, the street, petrol, blood, mud, alcohol and sweat. It's a violent assault on his nose especially since his cleaner had just been in and the entire place smelt clean with a lingering trace of too much polish.

"You sure you don't need a hospital?" He'd take him right now. Put him in his car and drive him the door, make sure he was going to get seen to and drive home with a clear conscience.

"Nah it's not that bad." He puts the cup down and thumbs at the cut on his cheek wincing.

"Here." He places a couple of antiseptic wipes and his first aid box down on the marble, it's not much but it's enough that the kid could get himself cleaned up. Hissing as he wipes his face. Woolly hat pushed up but not taken off.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing." The reply is sharp and defensive.

"What's your name?"

"Rail." He says hissing as he wipes at the cut on his temple.

"Your mother a fan of trains was she? Your real name?"

"That is my real name." Or the only name he was willing to give to a stranger anyway.

He watches as 'Rail' carefully brushes the blood and strains from his face missing patches here and there because he can't see himself and he can only feel where the skin feels tacky.

"Want help?"

"No." Jesus he's defensive although he can understand that.

"Mirror?"

Bright blue eyes on him in a flash, face already warring between accepting the offer and rejecting it.

He makes the decision for him retrieving a small framed mirror that his sister had bought him quickly from the bathroom, he doesn't want to leave him alone, he doesn't want to listen to his brain's insistence that he'll come back to find him gone along with his phone which he had stupidly left on the side.

He doesn't mean to sigh with relief to find Rail sat where he left him fighting with the wrapping on a plaster.

He places the mirror down and returns to leaning against the kitchen counter and watching him patch himself up glancing at the clock.

Less than an hour ago he had been walking home from work having had too many to drive, he had taken the shortcut around the back of the houses it wasn't likely that anyone would be stupid enough to fuck with him, he could defend himself and he was known, he was a club owner with more than a few dodgy connections and a few illegal side-lines. Under the bridge where the street lights were out he found this kid, curled in on himself obviously on the wrong end of a beating, he didn't need to see him clearly to know it was in the hold of his body.

He was going to leave him right there, it was none of his business, but then he couldn't leave someone bleeding on the street.

"Do you need an ambulance?"

The kid had shrunk away from him, pushed himself deep into the damp almost brown bricks behind him.

"I'll be fine."

"Can I call someone?"

The kids bitter laugh had told him all he needed to know. There was no one.

"How about a taxi home?"

"This is my home, least for the night."

"How about you come with me and you can get cleaned up?"

"You a perv?"

"No."

"Well you would say that wouldn't you?"

"I'm offering a first aid kit and a cup of tea or you can lie there and bleed all night." Kid didn't want his help well then at least he'd offered, more than he should have done from the sound of it.

"Coming or not?"

The kid had hesitated but then gingerly made his way to his feet, hissing and groaning a little before following three steps behind, hesitating again at the doorway. Blood still wet and running down from under a woolly hat.

"I haven't got a torture chamber I'm still waiting for planning."

"Funny." He stepped inside and dropped a carrier bag and a blanket to the side of the door.

Another hiss brought him out of his thoughts and he watched Rail press the wipe into his split lip.

"Want something to eat?"

"Not going to say no am I?"

"Bathrooms through there if you want to get a wash." There's no diplomatic way of saying it but he's not sitting eating with him unless all the blood and dirt is off him.

He puts two ready meals from the freezer into the microwave and sets it away. He didn't know what 'Rail' would want but he doubts he'll be fussy.

He does a double take when Rail comes back carrying his coat, a jumper and his hat in one hand, placing them carefully on the stool next to him. There's nothing to him, all sharp angles, skinny arms and near non-existent waist, pouty lips he'd already noticed and pretty if not suspicious eyes.

He places the hot plastic carton down on the marble in front of him and hands him a folk. He can see him about to say something about not having a plate until he takes the plastic completely off his own meal and digs in.

He catches sight of some scars on the inside of his forearms. Cigarette burns. He knows because he has them too, charred into his shoulder and upper back by his father. That the reason he was on the street? Run away?

He eats slowly, taking small mouthfuls as any man does when he has learnt the lesson of making things last, that eating slowly makes the food last longer, makes him feel fuller than shovelling it in. he had learnt that lesson and forgotten it by the time he's finished his Rail is still half way through his.

He doesn't rush him even though he needs to go to sleep. He's got a meeting at nine in the morning one that requires him not to be half asleep.

"I better get going." Rail's already pulling on his hat and jumper. "Thanks for everything." He pulls on his coat and zips it up.

"You going to be okay?" Seems like a stupid question.

"Always am."

He follows him to the door watching him picks up his bags, tucking the blanket under his arm.

"See ya." He locks the door behind him and makes his way to his bedroom. His freshly made bed and wonders just which patch of pavement or which door Rail will be sleeping on or in.

He doesn't see Rail again for three months, it's autumn and it's been raining heavily for days, cold and damp, unrelenting wind that cuts through anyone without a coat.

He's walking along the high street Paddy's hand in his and Rail is sitting on the War monument, same woolly hat, same coat, legs drawn up talking to three others, smiling and chatting away. Until he laughs, the most alarming laugh he's ever heard, not unpleasant but loud, it breaks to coughing, the kind of coughing that screams bronchitis.

"Dad? You coming or what?" Deccy sighs.

"Yeah." He keeps walking while he's buying Deccy a ski jacket for his upcoming trip to France he spots some gloves, scarf and hat sets and he instantly buys one of them. Doesn't know what he's thinking, Rail will properly throw them back in his face or something but he sounded ill and he's spending nearly a grand kitting out his oldest he can spare twenty quid.

It's a disappointment when they walk back down past the monument that Rail is nowhere in sight, neither are the others.

Its five months and it's snowing when there's a knocking on the door and there's two police officers with Rail in the middle of them, pink nose and cheeks flushed.

"Excuse me this kid says he lives here."

Rail's eyes scream at him to agree.

"Where've you been?"

"So you do know him?"

"Course I know him. I asked where you've been?"

"Around."

"He was drinking on the street in the city centre, gave a bit of grief when we caught him but to be honest mate we've got better things to be doing than locking up a minor, too much paperwork if you get what I mean. He said he lives here if that's the case we'll leave it there."

"Well he does. You get your arse in here."

Rail nods and looks suitably chastised as he makes room for him to get inside.

"Thanks for bringing him back."

"No bother but he shouldn't be drinking at all at his age we catch him again…"

"You won't, I'll see to it."

The officers nod and head back down the steps towards their car.

He closes the door and turns, Rails standing in the middle of the living room, neck craned towards the window.

"They're gone. Thanks for that." Rail strides towards him. "I'll get out of your hair."

"Minor?" Rail's young but he's not a kid. He can't believe that the police had fallen for that.

"Cops man they can never be arse with dealing with kids, there's paperwork, social, they've got better things to be doing. I say I'm a kid and they've got to prove I'm not which takes ages believe me. Anyway thanks." He's already got his hand on the door.

His hat's missing, he hasn't got his bags with him or his blanket. It's snowing, freezing cold and he may not be responsible for Rail but he still can't find it in himself to be that much of a bastard.

"Give them enough time to do a drive past, they catch you walking they're going to know I lied." He doubts the police will be bothered enough to drive back past, maybe, it's enough of an excuse.

"Alright." He shifts uncomfortably on the balls of his feet like he doesn't know where to put himself.

"Sit down you want something to eat?"

"You've done enough."

"You turning down a hot meal?"

Rail shakes his head. They eat in silence and by the time the kids picked through the last of the rice there's no reason for him to stay and the way he gets up and goes to the door tells him he's not going to be stopped.

"Hang on a second I've got something for you." Rail waits by the door until he comes back. He'd pushed the set of warm gear into his wardrobe as soon as he'd brought Paddy and Deccy back from shopping half way between annoyed that Rail hadn't been where he left him and irritated with himself for buying something for a stranger.

Rail frowns at him as he looks inside the bag.

"You haven't got your hat on and it's cold."

"No ball warmers?" Rail smiles as he pulls out the hat and pulls it onto his head. "Thanks." He says with genuine warmth and an under riding surprise that he's giving him anything, the kind of surprise that tells him that Rail doesn't get gifts very often at all.

"Here." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, he doesn't know why but he doesn't like the idea of this kid in trouble with no one to call. "In case the cop's give you anymore hassle. You can call me."

"You're mental."

He nods, yeah he properly is.

It's frosty, minus four wind chill and there's an inch of snow on the ground when he sees him again, gaunt, pale and shivering in the back row at midnight mass at his local church. He sits down next to him.

"Religious?"

"It's got a roof and it's open." Rail replies quietly. Confirming what he already suspected. "And it's beautiful, all the lights and that." Rail coughs into his gloves, chest rattling so loud he can hear it.

"You should get that seen to."

"Got some antibiotics from the free clinic." Rail replies straining to stop coughing. "Won't go away." He leans his head back.

"Can't you go to a shelter? Or hostel or something?"

"Used all my stays until next week." He replies tiredly. "Safer on the street most of the time anyway."

"Can't you go home?" He winces as he says it.

Rail shakes his head.

"Got kicked out, would have left anyway. Me mam's bloke didn't want no poofter in his house." He gets a half smirk that he doesn't understand. "And Mam well she didn't want me, only reason she didn't give me away was for the benefit money."

He lets the words of the service fill the silence between them until Rail coughs and coughs like he's never going to stop which draws attention to them. People turning in their seats looking at them until he finally manages to get it under control, squeezing his eyes shut and biting into the fabric of his glove.

"I better go." Rail states still half coughing.

"Come back to mine."

Rail shakes his head.

"Nice of you and that but no."

"It's warm and safe."

"Thanks Brendan." The first time he's heard him say his name, rolling in his accent. "But I can't."

"Why not?" Why chose to walk the streets, shiver in a doorway instead of coming home with him and at least getting warmed through.

"Better off on my own."

"Just for the night." He presses, he can't let this kid go onto the streets like this.

"Trust me it's better this way." He follows him out onto the gritted path.

"Wait."

"Look I appreciate everything you've done for me." He's barely done anything and he acts like he's moved mountains for him. "But…" That's as far as he gets before he's struck by another coughing fit and he staggers.

"You're coming home with me no arguments."

He sets him up in the spare bedroom, giving him a spare set of clothes, making him take a shower and drink chicken soup before going to bed himself.

He wakes in the morning half expecting to be robbed overnight. This lad was a stranger that could have called his mates in to strip the place as he slept. He gut told him that he wouldn't but then he didn't even know this lads real name. He had never believed in the basic goodness of the human soul because his experience had taught him that people were different when they were desperate and trying to survive. He rushes, pulls on his jogging pants and a t-shirt and hurrying to check if he was going to spend Christmas with coppers trying to explain that he had invited a homeless stranger into his house and been bitten for it.

He's expecting it to be stripped completely of everything down to the Christmas cards what he finds is everything, absolutely everything exactly where he left it except his keys which as on the side next to the door which is on the latch. He goes to the spare room and Rail's gone. The clothes he had given him on the bed with a note reading 'thanks' in scruffy writing.

He wonders about him. Where he is. What he's doing, if he's managing. He can't ignore them anymore. He finds himself searching the faces of the homeless for him. It would give him piece of mind to know he's alright, safe at the very least.

It's eight months after he met him that he gets the phone call.

"Mr Brady my name is Dale Grieves I'm a legal aid solicitor representing Mr Steven Hay he told me to contact you on his behalf. Mr Hay has been arrested for theft and is to be charged. He needs an address before he can be bailed." He frowns and tries to work out who the hell would be using his name for that. "He said you might not remember him, he goes by Rail or Latte." Dale obviously picks up his hesitation.

Theft? Rail… Steven he lets the name sink in. Steven could have robbed him blind the night he'd stayed and hadn't.

"Would you be willing to give him an address?"

He signs the forms and listens as Dale explains that he's now responsible for making sure he makes his court date six weeks from today.

"It's not his first offence, it's looking likely that he will face a custodial sentence."

Steven's eyes are down cast as he's lead into the front. He signs for his possessions which amount to the hat he gave him and his coat.

He's silent, following behind him as they leave the police station. He heads towards the car park then realises he's not behind him.

"Thanks I'll see you." He's standing at the top of the tarmac looking to walk away down the street.

"No you don't. I signed those papers you don't turn up in court I get done."

"I'll make me court date."

"Get in the car Steven."

He does as he's told dropping into the passenger seat and pulling on his seat belt without comment.

"It was two loaves of bread and a couple of smoothies from a bin, they'd chucked them but the manager has it in for us. Thought I'd be alright cos Julie usually works a Tuesday and she don't mind." He picks at his sleeves. "Going to get six months maybe a year."

"He said it wasn't your first offence."

"Got to eat. Don't steal from anywhere but the bins it's all good stuff. Don't do it often only when I've got to."

He sighs and taps his hands against the steering wheel. He doesn't know if he's angry about Steven getting caught, the coppers for charging, that Steven needs to steal food, life has been so unkind to him or that he's been dragged into it even though it was his choice.

"You're staying with me until your court date."

"I swear I'll make it. Wouldn't want you getting into trouble for me."

"Did that sound like a request?"

Steven dips his head.

"Here you'll need this." He throws the t-shirt at him as he comes back from the shower in borrowed clothing treading carefully and looking uncomfortable.

Steven unballs the t-shirt and looks at it, frowns then looks at him.

"You're here, you're working for me."

"Where?"

"My club, you can collect glasses, scrub toilets, anything and everything I need doing for minimum wage half of which goes towards your board." No arguments. He's going to pay for his keep.

Steven looks at him and he realises there's tears threatening to spill over.

"You're giving me a job." He stutters.

"Problem?" He knows it's shit work, there's no need to cry about it. Steven didn't strike him as the crying type anyway. He was too cynical, too much of an old head.

"I've always wanted a job."

He looks like a kid at Christmas. Beaming at him, like he'd just given him a winning lottery ticket.

"Sorry just…" He walks away into the bathroom returning a good five minutes later with red eyes.

"Can't get a job without an address, can't do much without an address really." He hadn't thought about it like that. "I've got my name down for a flat but I'm not a priority. Waiting lists a mile long."

"I'm trusting you." He hands him a spare key.

Steven's head nods quickly.

"I won't do ought to let you down."

Steven works harder than any of his current staff. Lifts creates and re-stocks without hesitation, clears up sick off the floors, spilled drinks, shit in the toilets. Doesn't complain at all. He falls into place with the rest of the staff, he's friendly by nature, loud and sharp, doesn't take anything lying down, bites back with good nature or puts his foot down. He can't help but watch him when he's working the bar which he finds himself doing more and more. There's something about Steven that draws him in, a warmth that he holds that calms him.

"Day off tomorrow got any plans?" He asks over Indian takeaway.

"Going to get some clothes." Steven replies. "No offence but you and me aren't the same size. And my card came today." He had made him get a bank account. He had to pay him and he didn't want to pay him cash it would have the others asking and he wasn't prepared to do it.

He returns from lunch meeting to find Steven mid-change. There's scars on his back, thin and long.

"Thought I had ages before you got back I'll take all this through to my room, I won't be a second. Sorry, shouldn't have made a mess."

"Where did you get those?"

"Charity shops, amazing what you can get."

"I meant the scars."

Steven freezes pulls on the hem of his shirt even though they're already covered.

"Terry, Mam's bloke took a belt to us." He begins stuffing the loose clothes into bags.

"He do the cigarette burns?"

Steven nods flustered arms suddenly clamped to his sides, like he's ashamed or embarrassed by them. He shouldn't be.

He unbuttons the top three buttons on his shirt and drops it over his shoulder a little. "My Dad give me these that's how I know what they are."

He sees Steven's eyes widen as he turns his back to show him. He doesn't know why he is, he'd explained them away hundreds of times, but Steven, well he's got scars of his own and he knows how it feels to have your protectors turn into enemies.

"Did you run away from him?" Steven asks cautiously. He opened the bottle, now he has Steven wondering how similar they are. They're not and they are he supposes.

"No. I had a sister to protect from him."

Steven nods.

"I protected my Mam." He says before taking his bags and disappearing into his room.

He leaves him alone until later when he's making, or rather zapping his dinner. He knocks on the door.

"You hungry?"

"Nah you're alright."

He nods and returns to his dinner. He shouldn't have pushed him, he should have ignored the scars and talked about what he had bought for himself but there were marks on him and he wanted to know just who was responsible for them.

When he gets in he finds Steven asleep on the sofa, TV playing illuminating his face. He really is stunning. He watches until Steven shuffles and cracks an eye open at him, aware almost instantly then relaxing as he sees him.

"Go alright?"

"Still standing." He puts his wallet and watch in the draw, pulls his suit jacket off and rolls up his sleeves as he goes to the kitchen.

"There's some casserole on the side."

"Casserole?"

"I made it."

"You?"

"There was this cooking show on, recipe was dead easy. Tastes alright."

He sniffs at the dish. Smells alright. He ladles it into the bowl and gives it a few minutes in the microwave, before taking it into the living room and sitting next to Steven.

"Anything good on?"

"House show or zombie film." Steven hands him the remote.

"This is good." He folks another mouthful.

"Glad you like it. Night."

"Night."

Full of surprises.

They fall into a routine. He doesn't even notice it until a few weeks later. He gets up goes for his run and by the time he's back Steven has started making breakfast. If he has a meeting then Steven does the dishes and orders the shopping. If he doesn't they go to the shops together. The afternoon is spent lazying around chatting about anything and everything. Steven's a wealth of weird and wonderful knowledge from all the things that he learnt on the street from various sources. He's more open about talking about his experiences. He learns that newspaper is some of the best insulation available. That layers are the key to everything. That socks dry best around the neck. All sorts of things about various people that Steven had met. Then they go to work, come home, eat talk a little more and go to sleep.

"It's cute."

"Cute?" He grimaces in distaste.

"My big brother finally finding someone to settle down with only I have to find out by coming to see you? There is such a thing as a phone."

"He's… We're not… We're not together Chez."

"Stop pretending you're not gay I know you are."

He sighs and drops his head onto his palm.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you should be proud of who you are I know I am. And I like him. I approve."

"That's lovely for you. You've met him for all of five minuets."

"I'm a great judge of character."

"That's debatable."

"You like my Nate."

"Tolerate." He actually does like Nate. He's solid and hard working. A bit… He's not his particular kind of bloke but he's good for his sister and she's happy. "I tolerate him."

"Don't be such a sour puss. You love him and that's that. Now about your Ste."

"He's not my Steven."

"Do you need me to…"

"No." He exclaims. He doesn't need her doing anything.

"I could cook you a romantic dinner and you could…"

"Chez enough. Stay out of it."

"Only trying to be helpful." She pouts. "I just want you to be as happy as I am."

"I am happy."

"Your face says otherwise."

"There's nothing wrong with my face."

"You're getting wrinkles. Should be impossible the amount of skin care you have but age catches up with everyone. You should make the best of your looks before all you can get is…"

"Chez." He barks. Anything to shut her up.

She pouts at him until desert then pouts some more. Finally Nate finishes his meeting and joins them for coffee which finally gets her smiling.

When they get home from work and Steven drops to sofa, grabbing the remote, waiting for him to nuke a couple of ready meals with his head tilted back sighing, then he pops forward and starts going through the channels. And he realises what Chez means to be settled. He is settled. Steven sat on his sofa. Asking him what he wants to watch while he picks up the closets two meals and sets them away. Coming back to the sofa, handing him a folk and his food, finishing his then finishing the rest of Steven's as they have done since… Well he can't remember when it started some time around the time Steven complained that he didn't want to let good food go to waste.

There's a letter open on the coffee table he picks it up. Steven's court summons. Another week and he's up in front of a judge.

"Have a good day?" He's too bouncy. Trying too hard.

He looks at the letter again.

"Oi shouldn't be reading other people's letters you. I'm going to walk to work I'll see you there."

He shakes his head to snap himself out of it.

"Sure you don't want to wait?"

"Can't be late, my boss doesn't approve." He picks up his hoodie and leaves before he can stop him.

He pretends to be fine but everything about the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he sets his lip up is screaming fear at him. He's quiet and the routine ends. They get back and Steven goes straight to bed. He gets in from his run and Steven's already gone, he doesn't know where he goes but he always shows up at work on time.

He gets home the night before the court date and Steven's on the sofa, Vodka bottle on the table and tears on his face, he wipes at them instantly and tries to hide behind a fake smile.

"You'll be fine tomorrow."

"Nah, I'm going to prison. No point lying it doesn't make me feel better." He reaches over and takes a swig from the bottle. "I want to thank you, you know now for everything you've done for me. I've loved this. You know having a place to live, a job it's been the best weeks of my life and I want you to know that I've really loved it." The tears run again. "This is why I didn't want to come with you that night at the church, the more you have the more it hurts when you lose it all again." He wipes his eyes and takes another drink. "But it was great you know, knowing what I could have had if things had been different."

"You can have this again."

Steven shakes his head, then dissolves into sobs before forcing himself to stop only break down again. He wraps his arms around him and pulls him into his chest, holding him tightly and trying to quieten him down.

"Will you be with me tonight?"

"Steven."

"I know… It's just… Please. I know I'm not much but please."

"Steven."

"Please I just want to feel safe before I'm not anymore. Just one night it's all I need. Please."

"I'm not going..."

"It's alright I understand. Sorry course you don't want to." He tries to pull away but he holds him firm.

"Will you let me get an word in edgeways?" He waits for him to interrupt but he doesn't. "We do this it's not just for tonight."

Steven nods but he doesn't think what he said registered the way it should have but then Steven's mouths on his, he kisses with desperation, the kind of need for comfort that comes from the soul. Steven's impatient but he's waited too long to have him to rush anything. He takes control of the kiss forcing it to slow, letting the taste of vodka, tears and Steven mix over his tongue. Tastes his groans until his chest is burning and he has to stop if only to catch his breath in the sweetness of his neck.

He grips his thighs encourages them around his body, once locked he lifts them both up, Steven laughing against his neck, sucking, nips at his jaw and tries every possible way to get dropped going, he presses him into the wall to adjust his grip and grinds his hips hard. Steven's head hits the wall as he tilts his head back, baring his neck, panting and closing his eyes. He kisses his slack mouth and reveals as Steven's eyes spring open and lock with his.

He tries not to drop him too hard to the bed but he wiggles and ends up bouncing anyway. He tears his jacket off, undoes three buttons on his shirt, fiddling with the cuff links before pulling it straight over his head and throwing it to the carpet.

Steven's breath hitches, he reaches both hands up onto his chest, sliding them up to his collar bones and pulling him down onto him. He tries to keep his weight up but Steven's hands that are mapping his back pull him down, refusing to let him so he gives in and presses him into the mattress, pushing himself into him until it's too much and too little at the same time.

He pushes up through his palms either side of Steven's head and leans back. He's never seen him completely shirtless, he pulls at the hem of his t-shirt caught beneath the weight of his body, Steven lifts himself, pulling it loose and over his head in seconds.

Fuck. He knew he was lean but he didn't expect the definition. The softness of the lines, the concave of his belly as he breathes too deeply. He presses the tips of his fingers above his naval almost expecting it to break the image like a mirage. He's real. It's all real.

He kisses him again, deeper and Steven takes it like he's starving for it.

He joins him in impatience, kisses becoming a frenzy as he tries to taste every square inch of him, but there's still too many clothes. Steven at his belt buckle before he's even upright. As soon as it's undone his hands are inside his briefs and around his cock. He kicks his clothes clear and indulges in Steven's wide eyes and talented hands, he's loath to pull himself away but he has to, he licks Steven's navel while unbuttoning his jeans, slipping the zip and sliding them down his thighs, his mind flickers for a second at the tattoo, he sucks on it, taking the softness of the skin over the hardness of his hip bone under his mouth. He kisses down the side of his hip onto his upper thigh and Steven lifts his thighs up and down to dislodge his jeans, he grins at him as he looks up when he finally has them free then moans as he buries his face against his dick and balls licking and kissing and sucking.

He puts everything into it. He has to make him see how special he is, how amazing. He takes he head and swirls his tongue looking up to see Steven's darkened eyes and plush lips, he's never seen anyone like him, he takes him down feeling the fullness of his cock in his mouth. Savouring the taste, the texture, the moans and groans, nail in his hair raking but not forcing the issue, he takes him deeper anyway. He works his way back up, letting his fingers take his saliva off Steven's cock, lets more fall directly onto them.

He kisses him through his discomfort as he opens him with care, so much heat, so tight he reaches for draw and pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. He lubes his fingers and stretches him further. His balls are aching with the pressure already, the need to be buried inside him, the want of release.

"I'll ready." Steven pants against his lips.

He pushes back, takes his time to calm himself a little, back away from the edge. He bats Steven's hand away when he reaches for the condom. He's doing this himself or he's never going to make it.

Steven squirms on the bed covers, the epitome of lust.

He takes a few breaths to get his heart rate under control, before pressing the head of his cock against his hole. Steven hips are moving already, his legs press into the base of his spine demanding he keeps going. He's careful, keeps his eyes on Steven's face for any sign of distress. He's a groaning mess on the pillow, mouth open eyes flickering between closing and looking down towards where he's entering him.

Once he's fully inside him he gives them both a moment, he rolls his hips. He's never had anything like this. The rapture on Steven's face as he increases the pace, the pure connection he feels to a man that has somehow made his way into his heart with his horrible laugh and genuine nature.

He loses himself in it. The slide of their bodies that fit so flawlessly together, the lust and need to chase the kind of pleasure high that he knows is going to half blind him. It's already building, he holds it off as long as he can, trying to make this last. Steven's muscles tighten around him and he's struggling to hold on. The breathless moaning, begging that beats in his head. He holds on until Steven comes between them, crying out and seizing so hard that he aches off the bed.

He nearly collapses onto him as the force of pleasure sweeps over him and keeps going.

Steven's a wonderful mess of sweat soaked skin, flushed cheeks and smiling eyes.

"We should have been doing this from day one."

He smiles and kisses him.

He makes him get under the covers despite being half asleep. He wraps his arms around him, settles into the contentment of a great fuck and it being with someone he cared for, he curls himself around him tries to block out what's to come in the cold light of day.

Steven's nearly beside himself outside the courtroom as they wait to go in. He tries to reassure him but it falls on deaf ears.

"Mr Steven Hay as this is not your first offence, in fact it is the latest in the long line of criminal actively no matter how minor those crimes may be I feel I have no choice to be sentence you to prison, three months to be served immediately."

He leans against the hood of his car and waits. Feels like he's been waiting days not hours. Last time he saw him he had a fat lip and a black eye, tough shell that had hardened since his first visit after all Steven was a survivor, he knew what it took to live in adverse circumstance.

He glances at his phone and wishes the digits would speed up. Just because they said he'd be realised at ten didn't mean he was going to be outside the prison by ten but he didn't want to miss him.

He looks up at the scuffle of grave to see him getting through the last gate.

"Didn't think you'd be here." Steven states.

"Said I would be."

"Yeah but I thought you might have changed your mind."

"No. You coming?"

"You still want me?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You're sure?"

"Get in the car lets go home."


End file.
